by Freya Barker
“Hey, honey,” I greet him, taking the box from his hands so he can say hello to the dogs.
In the kitchen I pull off a few sheets of paper towel—not bothering with plates—and grab a few beers from the fridge. I’m washing my hands at the sink when two strong arms slip around me from behind.
“I like that,” Rafe rumbles in my neck. “You calling me honey.”
A charge ripples over my skin as one of his hands comes up under my shirt to cup my breast, and the other slips down the front of my lounge pants. “The kids,” I remind him, even as I press back into his body.
“They won’t be home for at least another hour. After that I won’t be able to do this for a whole week.” His fingers stroke leisurely along my folds, as he plucks at my nipple with his other hand.
“Pizza will get cold,” I point out, almost breathless with arousal when his thumb finds my clit.
“I’d rather have you hot,” he whispers, before laving my neck with his lips and tongue. “And wet,” he adds, slipping two digits inside me.
“Rafe…” I whimper helplessly, as he gives me my first orgasm in front of the kitchen sink.
The second with my ass on the counter and his mouth on my pussy. The third with my ass in the air, bent over the kitchen table as he pounds in me from behind.
It takes us ten minutes to collect the various items of clothing Lilo and Stitch have dragged all over the house. We’ve finished cleaning up and are about to sit down with cold pizza, when the front door opens.
As usual, Spencer is the first one to come barreling inside with his sister following at a more sedate pace.
“Hey, Daddy, hey, Aunt Taz. Guess what?”
“I give up,” I joke, but Spencer’s already well into his story about Grandpa giving him his lucky fishing hat to take on our trip.
As Spencer is proudly showing his dad, I notice Mom staying in the hallway, Sofie by her side. “Won’t you come in?” I ask, getting up to join her there.
“No, I should get back to your father. I just wanted to wish you a good trip.” She watches as I absentmindedly stroke Sofie’s braids.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll have my phone, though. Anything happens, call, okay? We’ll only be a couple of hours from here.”
Her eyes dart over my shoulder and I can sense Rafe closing in. “Lisa also offered to be on standby for whatever you need,” he adds, and I see Mom nod.
She seems to swallow hard as she takes us in; Sofie with her back to my front, my arms loosely crossed over her chest, and Rafe behind me, not touching, but close.
Then she nods again, “I will,” and walks out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rafe
“Who’s coming with me to gather wood for tonight’s fire?”
“Me!”
I chuckle when, of course, Spencer is the first to raise his hand. We did pick up some firewood on the way, but it’s barely enough to last us the first night.
“Daddy, are there snakes here?”
“Pipsqueak, there’s snakes everywhere. Even in Eminence. You used to bring me snakes all the time.”
“They’re gross.” She shivers dramatically.
“Why don’t you help me get our beds ready, Sofie?” Taz suggests. “No snakes in the tent.”
She only hesitates for a moment before she darts inside the tent.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Son.”
The campground is basic: remote and private sites, a picnic table and firepit, a central shower building with bathrooms—not much else. But, it has a ton of hiking trails, and it borders a river teeming with trout. Maybe this afternoon we can do some fishing.
I dreamed of trips like this when I was growing up. Imagined parents who could teach me basic survival skills. I’d seen a movie once of a family on a camping trip: the father and mother showing the kids how to make a shelter, build a fire, and catch fish. I was never that lucky, but when I was old enough I taught myself, and was determined to pass it on to any kids of my own.
Sofie had been an adventurous toddler, and Spencer barely a year old, the only time we ever took them camping. What should’ve been a week ended up being a three-day trip. Nicky had been miserable, Spencer had been cranky, and the only person having fun had been Sofie.
In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been a good idea to go camping with a baby and we never tried again, but now—at five—Spencer seems to be soaking it up.
“This one, Dad?”
He holds up a small branch of dead wood.
“That’s good kindling to start the fire, Son. Find me more pieces like that.”
By the time we head back to the campsite, he has his arms full of branches and I’m dragging an entire dead tree behind me.
“What are you doing?” I ask Sofie, who’s standing underneath a tree on the far side of the small clearing, looking up.
“Aunt Taz is tying ropes.”
Spencer drops his bundle by the firepit and rushes over to stand beside his sister, peering up into the tree. “Cool! Can I come up, Aunt Taz?”
Sure enough, when I join them and tilt my head back, I can see Taz straddling a thick branch about ten feet up, affixing a rope to the trunk. “You break something you’ll ruin the trip, you know that, right?” I call up.
Her response is a wide grin aimed down at me. “I’m not gonna fall. Our Congolese drivers didn’t nickname me Makaku for nothing.”
“What does that mean? Maka–whatever,” Sofie asks.
Taz loops a second rope around the branch she’s sitting on before climbing down with more confidence than I feel. “Makaku—monkey,” she explains with a smile when she has two feet firmly back on the ground. “Best way to get fresh fruit in the Congo is to get it right from the tree; bananas, mangoes.”
“No fruit up there,” I point out.
“Nope, but a rope between this tree and that one over there,” she points to one about fifteen feet away, “will keep our food safe.”
“Why do you have to hang it in a tree?” Spencer asks, and this time it’s his sister who answers.
“So the bears and the mountain lions can’t get at it. Right, Aunt Taz?”
“Bears?” he looks around with a worried look.
“Don’t worry,” I quickly reassure him. “They don’t like people much, so they tend to stay away unless we leave food lying around. They don’t mind an easy meal.”
I watch as Taz hands one end of the rope she looped over the branch to Sofie. “Hold on, honey.” The other end she ties to the emergency tarp I had in the back of the truck. “Spencer? Do we have more tent pegs? Would you mind grabbing those?”
Eager to help, he runs off to look for them.
“The food would’ve been safe in the truck,” I whisper, sidling up to Taz.
“I know, but where’s the fun in that?” she mumbles under her breath, before making her way over to the second tree.
I grin as she loops another coil of rope diagonally across her torso, and easily climbs up.
Grabbing a beer and a chair, I sit down and enjoy watching her show the kids how to build a cover with the large tarp. This is even better than in my childhood dreams.
“You’re amazing, you know that?”
The kids are out of earshot, manning the two fishing poles at the edge of the river. It had been a bit of a struggle getting them to wear their life vests, but once they realized there wouldn’t be any fishing at all unless they put them on, they quickly complied.
Taz and I are keeping an eye from in the folding chairs we dragged to the water’s edge.
She turns her head my way, smiling. “How so?”
Instead of answering I reach for her hand, bring it up to my mouth, and kiss her palm. “You just are.”
I smile at her and turn my eyes back to the kids, in time to see Sofie with her back to the water, watching us. Before I have a chance to react, she throws down her fishing rod and takes off running toward the trees.
“Sofie!”
&nbs
p; I shoot out of my chair and hightail it after her, trusting Taz will stay with Spencer.
She’s fast, darting through the woods, but with my much longer legs I have no trouble catching up with her. She’s crying when I finally hook her around the waist and swing her, struggling, up in my arms. I sit down with her on an overturned log and hold her until the crying subsides into sniffles.
“Sofie…Pipsqueak,” I start gently.
“Why?” Her pitiful plea cuts me deep. “Don’t you love Mom?”
“I do, and I always will. Your mom gave me the two most precious things in this world. You and your brother.”
“Then why—”
“Because I love your aunt, Taz, too,” I persist, even though I have no idea how to explain to an eight-year-old the difference. “If I could bring your mother back, believe me, I would in a heartbeat. I realize it’s difficult to understand, but as much as we miss your mom, I know she would want us all to be happy. She asked Aunt Taz to come home, so she could spend time with her before she died, but also so your aunt could look after us after Mom was gone.”
“I heard you fighting.”
I freeze at her softly spoken words. “Fighting?”
“You and Mom.”
“When was that?” I’m trying to think back to any particular argument, but realize sadly there were plenty more than one occasion when she could’ve heard.
Sofie remembers, though. “Right before you started sleeping in the spare bedroom.”
Jesus.
Goes to show kids are far more perceptive than you give them credit for. That was almost a year and a half ago, and we thought we were hiding our marital discord so well.
“I’m sorry you heard us fight, baby.”
“You were really mad at Mommy.”
Fuck me.
I lift Sofie off my lap and set her on her feet between my legs so we’re eye to eye. “Listen to me; your mom and I would get mad at each other sometimes, just like you and your brother do from time to time. That doesn’t mean you don’t love him anymore, right? He’ll always be your brother. People get angry—they fight—sometimes over things they can’t change. I could get angry with Mom, but I still loved her because she’ll always be the mother of my children. That doesn’t change, not even now she’s gone.”
“Are you gonna marry her?”
Sonofabitch.
She’s not holding back a thing. I guess I should be grateful for that, but I wish she’d save that question for a next time.
“Probably.” I opt for honesty. “There’s no rush with that, though.”
She nods, staring at the toes of her sneakers, and I wonder what other questions are brewing. She surprises me. “I tried to hate her; Aunt Taz.” Her eyes meet mine shyly. “I didn’t want her, I wanted Mom—but it didn’t work.”
“She’s hard to hate, much easier to love.”
“I know,” Sofie whispers.
Taz
Thank God I’m not queasy, although shoving my hand down the throat of that big fish Spencer just pulled out of the water is not my idea of fun.
“Can you feel it?”
My fingers brush the metal. “I can. Give me a sec.”
The poor fish is barely flopping on the grass while I try to remove the hook from its gullet. Spencer wants to throw it back, but I’m not so sure it’ll survive.
I give a sharp yank in an attempt to dislodge the thing, and wince when I feel it give away. I don’t want to think about the damage I may have done.
“Hey, kiddo?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think our friend here is gonna make it.”
Spencer bends down over the now motionless fish and pokes it with a grubby finger. “Can we eat him?”
I bite down a grin at the pragmatic five-year-old. “Sure. It’s big enough to feed the four of us.” That is, if there are actually gonna be four for dinner.
Spencer had been so distracted by the fish he hooked, he barely noticed his sister running off, Rafe close behind. I tried hard not to think about them while I helped my nephew land his first fish.
“I got a fish!” I hear Spencer yell. When I look up, I see Rafe and his daughter walking toward us, holding hands. I blow out a relieved breath and keep an anxious eye on Sofie as they approach, but she’s focused on the now dead fish her brother can barely lift up.
“Your first fish, that’s great, Son,” Rafe compliments with a quick wink in my direction.
“We’re gonna cook it for dinner.”
“I’m gonna have to clean it first,” I announce, getting to my feet.
“I can do it.”
I grin at Rafe. “Not my first time for that either. You can build a fire while I take care of the fish.”
He hands me the hunting knife he carries in the sheath on his belt before he turns to the firepit. The kids decide the fire is more interesting than my scaling of the fish until Sofie sees me gutting it. Thus leads to a brief biology lesson while I clean and wash the trout, both kids listening with rapt attention.
Dinner consists of the corn we picked up at a road stand on our way here, a few baking potatoes we’d brought from home, and Spencer’s fish.
“Why does it taste so much better?” Sofie asks, taking another bite from the large cob.
“Nothing beats food cooked over a wood fire,” I tell her. “Wait until we make bacon and pancakes tomorrow morning.”
“Can I help?” she asks, and I have to swallow a lump in my throat before I can answer.
“Absolutely.”
“Hey, Son?”
I’m not sure whether Rafe was waiting to gauge his daughter’s reaction to me, but the moment I hear him call on Spencer, I know what he’s going to say.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Your aunt, Taz, and I…well, we really like each other,” he says clumsily, and I almost laugh.
“I know,” Spencer says matter-of-factly, shoving another bite of his trout in his mouth.
Rafe tries again. “What I mean is, we’re a couple. We—”
“What your dad is trying to say,” I jump in, trying to clarify, “is that—”
“They’re gonna get married,” Sofie announces, surprising the hell out of me.
Shocked, I look over at Rafe, who merely shrugs.
“I know that,” he tells his sister agitatedly. “They practice all the time. Kissing and stuff.”
My mouth drops open as their father throws his head back and bursts out laughing. I glance over at Sofie, who is watching her father closely, the hint of a smile on her lips.
“The only thing I don’t know,” Spencer adds. “Is Auntie Taz still our auntie?”
That sobers the mood and I quickly grapple for an answer.
“That won’t change, buddy. My sister will always be your mom, so that makes me your aunt.”
“It’ll be weird, though,” Sofie points out. “If you and Dad are together and we still call you Auntie.”
“I see what you mean,” I agree.
“What if you just call her Taz?” Rafe suggests. “Leave off the Auntie. Unless you have a better idea?” He looks at me and I shake my head.
Sofie startles me with a soft snicker. “We can always call you Makaku.”
Spencer finds his sister’s idea hilarious, and the two dissolve in giggles while their father and I smile at each other over their heads.
It’s all going to work out.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Taz
“Auntie…I mean Taz?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Do you think Mom sees us?”
I turn my head and glance at Sofie’s profile.
We’re lying on a blanket by the waterside, staring up at the endless stars above. Spencer is already sleeping in the tent and Rafe is having a beer by the fire, the dogs sleeping at his feet.
“I’d like to think so. I would imagine she’s always around, so she can see you and your brother grow up.”
I turn back to the stars and a si
lence stretches between us, but not uncomfortably so.
“Would she be mad?”
“Because of your dad and me? I don’t think so, Sofie. Your mom and I talked quite a bit before she died.” I hesitate, trying to figure out the best way to word this without going into details that shouldn’t be shared with an eight-year-old. “Sweetheart, she asked me to look after you and your brother, and I’d like to think maybe she was hoping this might happen.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, and I sneak a glance to find her still staring up into the night sky.
“Daddy says he loves you.”
“I love him too.”
“He says he also loves Mom.”
“As do I. That never goes away.”
“Isn’t that kinda weird?”
I try to keep my face impassive, even though I want to smile. That question makes my niece sound like a typical preteen. “Nope. I don’t think there’s a limit to how many people we can love.” I sense Sofie’s eyes on me and turn to face her. “Your heart doesn’t run out of space, honey. It has endless room for love.”
She looks at me with sad eyes before returning her focus to the stars above, and I do the same.
“Do you think she’s lonely?”
Her tremulous little voice has me reach over to find her hand, and I curl my fingers around it. “How could she be? She has all of us.”
Not much later Sofie announces the bugs are getting bad, and I walk with her to the bathrooms so she can brush her teeth and do her business before turning in.
“Night, Daddy.” She bends down to kiss Rafe goodnight, but he pulls her down on his lap, hugging her tight.
“I’ll tuck you in,” he rumbles before setting her back on her feet and walking her to the tent.
“Stay,” I order Lilo and Stitch, who grudgingly lie back down, but in no time are back asleep.
It’s been a busy day for the pups, first sniffing and exploring the campsite, and after that decimating a large tree branch they’d pulled from the underbrush. Neither of them seems inclined to wander too far away, which is a relief.
